


Rain Like Stars

by Snowfilly1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Crowley Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Romance, Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowfilly1/pseuds/Snowfilly1
Summary: 'Your wings. Rain looks like stars on them,' and Aziraphale reached out, run a hand across the nearest feathers. Raindrops flicked up onto his skin. 'Beautiful.'Crowley and Aziraphale have their picnic and Crowley has something to say. Mostly an angel and a demon kissing in the rain and not caring who sees.A soft scene for the Ineffable Husbands 'Bad Omens' prompt (the 'bad omen' in this is a rain cloud over a picnic and nothing worse, I promise.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 130
Collections: Good Omens (Complete works), Week 5: Bad Omens





	Rain Like Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A soft fic for dark times. Crowley has normal for Crowley thoughts about messing things up and not being good enough but he's shown different by a very loving angel. One sentence mention of unwanted touches to wings.

Crowley sighed and rolled half onto his back, arm raised across his face to shield himself from some of the sun rays that were too much even for his glasses. Alongside him, Aziraphale did much the same.

At least the movement meant he had to look away from the angel. He felt like he'd been staring all the way though the picnic, and he wasn't sure if that was allowed. Well, that was the point of it, wasn't it? Aziraphale had made it perfectly clear that they were going to talk after they'd finished eating.

Saying things. Discussing things. Crowley had worked out weeks out ago what he wanted to say: 'Yes, I'm madly in love with you,' and 'Aziraphale, would you come to bed with me?' and simply 'please.' He knew Aziraphale must feel must the same way; why else organise a picnic, why come out here to the South Downs and drink champagne under gathering clouds if not to follow up on what he'd promised decades ago?

And yet. And yet. He's got plenty of things wrong before.

'Dear?' The name brought him back to himself; he blinked and looked across at the angel.

'You were a long way off there, dearest. Is everything alright?'

'Course,' and the smile he gave in response was only half forced. The past few weeks have been some of the best of his very long life, and if he wasn't feeling so sickly anxious, he would have enjoyed today even more.

Aziraphale looked as doubtful as the reply deserved, but accepted it. Instead, he reached out and brushed some crumbs off of Crowley's hand, and he wanted, so badly, for Aziraphale to be able to touch him without any pretense. Wanted to be able to hold hands across the chasm of the tartan rug they were sat on.

'My dear,' and his voice was the sun, warm, reassuring, and he wanted to react to it as his snake form does to warmth - reaching out towards it.

'Have you had enough to eat?' Aziraphale's soft, kind hands were busy already, flitting over packets and jars, tidying everything in a so very human fashion. Fascinated, still greedy, Crowley watched.

Beautiful.

In the past month, he'd thought that about Aziraphale far too often and never once been able to turn away from it. Now, laying with Aziraphale in their little stretch of the world bounded by the blanket and the grey clouds edging their way across the sky, he couldn't withstand it.

'You're beautiful,' and he'd meant to lead with something else. Meant not to say it at all, except that he meant it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life before.

Aziraphale blinked and for a moment, he knew he'd messed it up. That demons weren't meant to love anyway, and how could Aziraphale ever want or enjoy the attentions of a demon like that?

The answering smile was sunrise bright; dawn in the mountains cascading light down into the deepest valleys and bringing them alive in an instant.

'So are you, my darling, I've wanted to tell you that for ever such a long time and I've never dared, but...Crowley, my dearest...'

A hand dragged through his hair, flicking it away from his face. The touch skirted his glasses as though Aziraphale knew he couldn't do this without some barriers staying in place.

'Braver than me.' Aziraphale's face was suddenly very close to his; he sat up abruptly and nearly knocked into the angel.

'Crowley?'

Bugger it, if the angel thought he was brave, than he could be braver for a few seconds. Out of habit, he glanced around the common and checked for people. The last remaining group were fleeing the gathering clouds, bundling a reluctant child into a pram and shoving things into a backpack. It was about as private as anything was ever going to get.

Screw your courage to the sticking place, and Aziraphale really had had a bad influence on him if he was thinking of poetry at a time like this. He laid a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. Dragged it slowly down the length of his arm, fabric bunching under his cold fingers, warmth bleeding through the contact. Down across the naked vulnerability of his wrist, pulse bounding as hard as Crowley's so that he wasn't sure which of their hearts he was feeling - or perhaps it didn't matter, his heart had always belonged to the angel after all - and across his palm until their fingers locked together.

'Come here, angel.'

He tugged very gently, reached his other hand out as well. Had they ever touched in so many places? He couldn't remember anything like this careless weight of fingers and skin, like Aziraphale's fingers on his cheek again but this time drifting downwards towards his chin, like his other hand laying on Aziraphale's neck, an angel trusting a demon with his life and smiling as he did so.

They spoke over each other, a jumble of not quite sentences: 'Can I?' 'Crowley?' 'Want.' 'Let me.'

They laughed at the same time, a mingling of breath and sound that rose into the cold down land air and people already back in their cars, sheltering from the first drops of rain, felt better without knowing why.

Perhaps this wouldn't change anything.

He pressed his lips against Aziraphale's and realised too late the angel had moved to kiss him, so he was kissing the underneath of his jaw.

'We're still not very competent, are we, my love?' Aziraphale's eyes sparkled as he said that, as he moved so that he was nearly sitting on Crowley's lap.

'My love?'

'Oh, you are my love, Crowley. For as long as...I think you always have been.'

He wanted to be able to say something in response to that, but his brain was more focused on trying the kissing again. Aziraphale seemed to agree, because he was sitting on Crowley's lap now, making no pretence at anything else, and he was statue still.

It was, Crowley decided a few minutes later, something they'd really have to practice at. It was possibly the best thing he'd ever done in his life, but films hadn't prepared him for teeth clashing together or Aziraphale kneeing him in the ribs at one stage.

'It's raining,' was the first thing Aziraphale said when they finally pulled apart for air that neither of them needed.

Crowley flicked his wings out, curved them around Aziraphale. He couldn't lift them high enough in this position to cover their heads, but they wrapped around Aziraphale and sheltered him from most of it.

'Love you, angel.' The words were easier to say than expected; didn't choke or burn and if there were tears in his eyes...well. Aziraphale didn't say anything, just pulled him close and kissed him again.

It was the rain that made him stop eventually, rain forcing its way through his hair, soaking through his shirt. Neither of them had thought to use a miracle to keep it away, and he was nearly blind with it lashing across his glasses, something that would normally make him horribly uneasy. With Aziraphale's arms wrapped around him, it was hardly even annoying.

'Looks like stars.'

'Huh?'

'Your wings. Rain looks like stars on them,' and Aziraphale reached out, run a hand across the nearest feathers. Raindrops flicked up onto his skin. 'Beautiful.'

He fidgeted, not sure whether to move into the contact or not. It felt...intimate, for want of a better description. Any other touch to his wings had always been unwanted.

'Shall we....' He waved a hand in the direction of the Bentley, an easier get out than continuing that line of thought.

'Come back to the shop with me?'

He nodded, and it brought his wings closer, tips of the feathers ruffling against Aziraphale's back.

'C'mon then. Let's go.' He didn't let go of Crowley's hand as they walked back; Crowley kept a wing arched over his angel, and they were silent until they were back at the Bentley.

'I did that all wrong, didn't I?'

'What?'

'You. All in white and in the rain, should have left you to see how long before that top went see through.'

'Oh, you fiend,' and Aziraphale was laughing, pulling him down for yet another kiss. 'Don't you dare.'

The Bentley assessed the situation and played Somebody to Love all the way home. Even after Crowley took the CD out.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one written in odd circumstances...I hope you and yours are all doing ok in the madness.


End file.
